It's All Rather Greek to Me
by Honore with Shurpuff
Summary: When legends continue to walk centuries after they die, someone inevitably conceives an idea to, well, conceive. But how would that turn out? Just ask Emya Shiro, that lucky son of a witch.


"...Wow."

The man could only wheeze that word out.

"I know dear," said the woman wiping her body at the vanity nearby.

The man's dazed eyes traced unseen patterns on the ceiling. "That was amazing..."

"Thank you." The woman uncorked a bottle and began to liberally pour out its contents all over her body.

"...I can honestly say that was the best sex I have ever had." The blankets looked like they bound him to the bed.

The woman snorted and opened her mouth as if to say something, then stopped. "... Yes, if you say so dear," she said instead.

There was silence as the woman strapped on her underwear. Then broken by the man, bursting into sobs. "Oh god! I cheated on her! I cheated on my wife!"

"Oh, hush," chided the woman, who used the mirror to carefully replace the earrings on her unusually-shaped ears. "No one will ever know."

"But _I_ would! God!" The man bawled into the sheets.

The woman, easing into her slightly tight bra, shrugged. "You won't even remember."

The man said nothing else, although his crying stopped. He continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Whoa. I can't feel my legs."

The woman, who'd just been about to put the second stocking on her own leg, said, "That's probably because of the anesthetic."

Silence.

"The what?" cried the man, propping himself up.

The woman sighed. "Yes dear. The anesthetic. Or anesthetic_s_. Plural. How else could you have survived an unforgettable night with someone like me?"

"Someone like you? What, a lonely middle-aged woman I spent a drunken night with? Or..." The man narrowed his eyes, then swore. "... You're a magus?"

"Not really," the woman replied, frowning as if he'd broken wind. The man began to move his body, but found it infuriatingly entangled to the sheets.

"No need to fret, dear," said the woman as she brushed powder on her face. "As I said, you'll never remember this night."

The man's struggles to break free from the bedsheets continued for some time, during which the woman finished her last touches to her person. When she was satisfied, she stood from her chair to don the long, black coat that had hung haphazardly on the dresser from where it had been thrown at the beginning of the tryst.

"Don't worry. You won't be harmed, 'Magus Killer'. I just needed a few... hours of your time." She tapped her belly. "Do you know, I considered just letting a few of my familiars dress up as whores to coax you? But I rightly guessed that the steadfast Magus Killer would never stoop so low—particularly since he has several women on hand ready to service him. So I had to make the long trip and come myself." She hesitated, then added, more to herself. "Not that I did tonight, no thanks to _somebody._"

"You won't—get away—I'll find you—"

The woman made a long-suffering sigh. "Oh, what is it with you men. I've already told you two times now that you won't remember anything. You'll wake up tomorrow with a fierce hangover." She put finger to mouth. "And you'll quite possibly be pissing blood for a day or two. But it's nothing life threatening."

The man howled. The woman raised an eyebrow. "Good gods, that weepiness better not get inherited or I'll..." She muttered under her breath.

She turned for the door. "Oh, and what was your name again?" she asked, looking at the man's face for the last time. "Emile? Emano?"

When he didn't answer, she glared, and clenched her fist. The man doubled over in pain. "Emiya... Kiritsugu..." the words escaped like molasses from his mouth.

The woman narrowed her eyes in thought. "Oh. Japanese. From your face I thought you'd come from somewhere farther south... Well, I'll think of something. Goodbye then, Emya Kerizugu. Thank you for your donation." She made a sign with her hands, and the man known as Emiya fell back on the pillow, snoring. The hotel room door closed with a soft _click._

Many years later, in a sleepy Japanese city at an unnamed prefecture, a certain sort of magic was cast.

A teenager, slim and messy-haired, frowned down at his magic circle.

"Did I do it right?" he mumbled to himself. He glanced at all the spent materials that had been used to draw the thing, which had taken him a week to complete.

The boy rubbed his hands together nervously. To any watching, it appeared like he was on the verge of taking the entrance exam to a prestigious university, who was painfully aware he'd spent the last "review" months getting drunk and sleeping with every girl at the "Emya Shiro" fanclub.

Emya Shiro frowned at that thought. One of these days he would find a tome that'd describe how to get rid of the "blessing" his mother had bestowed on him. He didn't appreciate being a girl-magnet. And, of course, it wasn't fair to the girls (and some boys) of said fanclub, who'd been affected by what was technically a charming spell.

True, he _did _figuratively feel like the foolish jerk who spent the last review months getting drunk while sleeping with every girl in his fanclub, but the feeling, in his opinion, seemed genuinely worse.

It was more like a man, discovering he's part-mermaid, and who was encouraged to jump off a tall cliff by a delighted mother, complete with jagged rocks and turbulent sea at bottom.

Or more simply, lying tied to a bed while an axe swung pendulum-like over his neck, slowly descending a nanometer a second.

Technically, he shouldn't even have drawn this summoning circle. He'd been told to wait until an auspicious omen presented itself, which could take days or even weeks.

He rubbed his head. That's why he _had _to do this. _Forget all the fear. __It's not just about pleasing Mother. It's about validating yourself. I am a magus. I AM-_

"Screw it," Shiro said, and began the summoning.

When the ritual was over, the smoke cleared and Shiro, wiping soot from his face, beheld a sight that instantly made his stomach plummet down a high cliff into jagged rocks.

"Oh, crap."

"I ask of you," said the cowled figure standing in the remnants of the summoning circle. "Are you the magus who claims to be my master?"

Shiro opened and closed his mouth like a feeding fish. His brain finally put the gears back in place, and the engines revved back up, finally leading the train of thought back to the station-

"Motheeeeeer!" He cried, bolting out of the ritual room.

* * *

"And where the heck have you been?" Tosaka Rin asked, arms at her side and glaring suspiciously at her errant Servant. This one had been newly summoned last night, and despite promises to the contrary, had not been present when the girl had woken up, and who had also not prepared a ready breakfast.

The harried-looking Servant, who was curiously missing the red coat he'd been summoned with, blanched. Rin blinked. It must be her imagination, but the man actually looked pale. "...Archer? Are you alright?"

The man finally looked at her, though it was brief. His gaze slipped past her to the wall. Then he grunted. "Eh." He sprinted past her to the dining room.

"Hey, don't ignore me!" Rin followed her troublesome Servant. She was more than a bit irritated now, and was sorely tempted to use her second Command to make him talk. But that seemed petty, and incredibly wasteful.

She heard a clinking of glass. Turning into the room, she stood, open-mouthed as Archer began studiously pouring red liquid from her father's old liquor collection onto a series of wine-glasses arrayed in a line. She was mildly impressed to see he didn't spill anything.

"...Wait, never mind that," Rin said, rubbing her forehead. "Archer, what are you doing with my _father_'s stash?"

"Can't help it, sorry. Got to brace myself," the Servant finally said, burping. He tossed the empty bottle aside, then seized a glass and downed the contents in one swig. He put one down and picked up another.

"Hey, stop doing that! You're not allowed to drink those!"

"You can't either, Master," said Archer, in-between gulps. "At least, not for a while." He paused to look at her from head to toe. "How old are you again?"

Rin growled. She'd had enough. She raised her arm. "As your Master, I _order _you to-"

"Whoa whoa, hold on, Master." Archer said, flinging out a hand to catch hers. His palms felt rough to the touch. "Aren't you a little too impulsive? We're in a middle of the Holy Grail War. Decisions like these need to be made when your only choice is alive or dead."

"_Dead _is what you're going to be, Archer, if you don't start explaining!" She shoved the man away. "First! Where the heck were you? And second! What... are you doing with my father's stash?"

"It's not like he needs it," Archer said, taking a bottle from the shelf. He glanced at the label, then uncorked it, muttering something about "imitations".

"That's not the point! And anyway, first point! Answer me! Where were you?"

Archer sighed. He appeared a little more composed now. Healthy color returned to his cheeks, replacing the paleness from before.

Or maybe that was just the wine's spirits blessing him.

"I ran around the city to confirm something, Master. Nothing more, nothing less."

"And you didn't need to inform me of this...?"

"Because I was going to be back before the sun rose. Well, I expected to be."

"And what time do you think it is?"

Archer's head rose from contemplating the contents of his glass. "Heh, you just sound like my mother. You even look like her, too. Same posture and everything."

Rin looked down at her pose. Hands on hips, angry, confrontational. She frowned. "And so-"

"And so I did manage to find some stuff out, Master. About the War and all. Also, there's a sale down at Fuyukiba's. I remem—I mean, I could sense that their cabbages were absolutely heavenly."

"_What _things," Rin interrupted through gritted teeth. "Did you find out?"

"Oh, the identity of some of the Servants. And Masters." Gone was the haggard, fearful look from when he'd been standing at her doorway. Now he seemed confident, hawk-like eyes glinting with promises of victory.

She shivered. "That's...actually impressive Archer." Her mind began racing, forming plans in her mind. In the silent moments that followed, Archer continued to down glass after glass.

"...Yeah it should give us an advantage," Archer said absently. "But I'm not sure about victory, to be completely honest," he said under his breath.

Her mind screeched to a halt. "What? What do you mean?" The confidence in his gaze had fled like a college hopeful fleeing from retribution after failing the entrance exams.

"It's because _she's _here this time." Archer said ominously. Rin only looked confused.

"Well, let's leave the impending doom for another time. It'll all make sense later, Master," Archer said. He looked down, then did a double-take. "Whoa, where the heck is my coat?"

* * *

"_Are you sure you checked everywhere?"_

"Of course I'm sure!" cried one irate witch while she rummaged through yet another her trunk. Unwanted contents were flung everywhere: small animals dead and alive, empty inkwells, dusty scrolls and several old dildos.

"_Please try your best," _said the darkened silhouette of the personage on the other side of the videoconference call. "_And give us a call when you find it._"

"Stay on the damn line! I'm not paying more coin to the tyrannical phone... whatever-the-heck company who runs the conference call lines!"

"_Why can't you just use the Mirror?_"

"I just can't." Grunting, she blasted the useless bag away with a spell, then pulled another one from the top of the bed.

"_Well, I'm also only doing this to help you Medea. So help me help you."_

"If you wanted to help you could've told me that you were missing the artifact before we flew back to Japan! Why'd you have to wait until after we'd burned out my allowed Secrecy for the year?"

_"I had no idea you'd actually been in Greece. I thought you only went there every five years."_

"We went to Turkey, not Greece."

_"All the more reason why I couldn't contact you. You were on the other side of the Bosphorus."_

"That's not a good excuse and you know it. Now because of you, I'm stuck with a time bomb in my hands and it's set to blow!"

"_You exaggerate m'dear. The artifact is innocuous in itself. Look, at the time the artifact started to act strange, we did investigate. Promptly. And a lot of us assumed it was just a little prank in this secret war you magus have with each other. And besides, we weren't the ones who _made _you come to Greece well out of your schedule, and thus having the artifact home in on you like my boy CuCu scenting his bitches. It's not our fault you forgot that particular part of the Contract."_

_"_I didn't forget, you ass. We didn't go to Greece!"

_"Yes, yes, as you've already said. But, rules of proximity apply, or don't you remember?_"

"I—" Medea shook her head. "I do. But I didn't think that particular rule applied anymore. Anatolia hasn't been in Greek hands for more than two hundred years."

"_Times and territories for the mortals might change, m'dear, but ours endure. Our Rules, most specifically, will always apply. Why do you think all those Emperors—Chinese, Japanese, Roman, Bulgarian, German—came out all the way to America to open restaurants or barbershops?_"

Nothing in this trunk. Medea brought the next, last one banging down on the floor. "Be that as it may, I can't seem to find it here, Officer. Are you quite sure your instruments aren't malfunctioning?"

_"Are you quite certain _yours _aren't?"_

"Don't get smart with me you meddling, washed-up dyke!" she said in frustration, right after resealing the last trunk shut. The entity chained inside howled with her.

"_That's not what you called me last year at Vicky's orgy._"

"And you have time to make japes."

"_Medea, I _don't _have time. I'm wasting enough here playing customer service to you."_

_"_Exactly. As the customer I demand my demands be met."

"_That's not how it works._"

"Well, who cares what you think. That artifact isn't here with me and that's final!" Medea exhaled a long sigh. "Now you can take that back to the inept people manning your instruments. If they make another misstep, I'll make damn sure the next food they eat will turn them into maggots!"

_"Now don't go overboard with the threats, Medea. I just did another recheck—me being one of the 'inept' people manning the instruments after all—and I just confirmed it. It's definitely at your location. And actually quite close, by my estimation."_

"If it's hiding from me, I swear to all the heavens- wait a second..." She cocked her head. A stray memory from late last night drifted like flotsam into her mind.

_"Are we doing it, tomorrow, mother?"_

_Sigh. "No dear. Not until I've made sure the ley line's secure."_

_"...Alright." The shadow of a pout crossed Shiro's face. _

_Any other time and she would've done a number of things to wipe that expression from his face. But it had been five hours of grueling spellcasting on top of jet lag—and she was just content to lie on the couch with a warm towel over her face. And a bath. "In the meantime, be a dear and carry mother's things upstairs. I'm dying to sink into the bath—I assume the hot water's ready?"_

_"Yes mother," Shiro said glumly. He shouldered the packs and disappeared upstairs._

Shiro hadn't returned to at least greet her good night. She hadn't thought much on it—she sometimes worked long into the night, and he was a growing mortal who needed the sleep. But she should have known better than to let an impulsive young man, yearning to escape her eminent shadow, get his hands on several of her belongings.

She rubbed her head, feeling a headache coming along. Her bags were protected by various curses, but they didn't work against those of blood_._ And presumably, Shiro had gotten it in his head to sneak a peek into the bag where the artifact was and—

Several of her magic fields imploded from the force of the Summoning. A flash of white lit up the windows.

"_What the heck was that? Are you alright?"_

Medea took a deep breath. She needed a drink. "At the moment, no. And I think my son just found that wretched artifact."

"_Oh, that's great! I knew little Shiro would be an obliging dear."_

"Not in that way, moron."

"_Well, I'll mark that off as solved for now—but do contact should anything else happen to the artifact."_

"Wait, I didn't say you could—" Too late, the connection shut down. The laptop screen blinked cheerfully at her.

Fuming, Medea made short work of it, tossing its innards into the void gate.

A moment later, looking at the rest of its remains, she regretted it. "Oh gods." She rubbed her eyes behind the lids. "Now I have to _buy _another one." A growl issued from her throat.

She turned to the door. Nothing within the boundaries she set around their home was unknown to her—even the vermin that crawled in the subspaces of the basement weren't hidden from her scrutiny. So she saw him running, first of all, and second, she saw _her, _left behind inside the storage shed_._

The door burst open. "Mother!" cried a sweaty, horrified Shiro.

"Good morning, dear." A moment later, he was blasted away by a burst of magic.

Medea stood over her cowering son, smoke issuing from her palm. "You titanic idiot."

* * *

She was no stranger to arriving on strange shores. She got around back in the day, sometimes with a horde of men spending the whole voyage "wrestling" while drunk off their asses, and other times with literal demigods always spying the next meal of men or women the next island over.

So this place was old hat, really. As a bonus, the Grail basically handed her mind a quick rundown of the era: the place, customs, cultures, recent world history and all other miscellany a Servant should know before getting right down to the War.

She instantly knew that she was inside the domain of a powerful magus. That did not match the image of the scared youngster who'd ran from her. He was supposed to be her Master, but— ah, perhaps a proxy? An apprentice tasked to be the proxy, a secret known only to the the power-hungry magus, ready to snatch control over her as part of a backup plan in case the youngster died in the War...

She sidestepped a number of junk carelessly laid on the ground. Well, it was a sound plan. She couldn't fault a magus from constructing it. She would've done the same thing if she was in their shoes, with the added caveat of summoning a more pliable and powerful Servant to increase the chances of success.

The ghost of a smile came to her lips. She wasn't that powerful, and she definitely wouldn't be pliant. Perhaps she could twist the situation to her advantage. So thinking, she stepped out of the garage, following the trails of magic so thick she could smell it like incense, and onto the outside. She raised her head, breathing in the ambience.

A stray piece of roofing fell on her head. Caster crumpled to the ground without a sound.

Moaning, she roused herself a few moments later. Her head felt like several hundred soldiers were banging their spears on their shields inside it. The first thing she saw was a helpful hand, and upon looking up, there was the youngster, kneeling down to give her a hand.

She took it without thinking, rising to her feet with a murmur of thanks. The youngster stared at her with a kind of innocent, open wonder. She then noticed that her hood was down. Before she could raise it, she did a double take when she saw the rest of him.

He sported a large, noticeable hole in his belly.

Then she saw another person, standing a little behind him.

Surprise struck like a searing thunderbolt. Hands on hood, she could only stare with utter disbelief at the reflection of her own face, perched on a body that wasn't her own.

"Hades' hairy pits..." she murmured slowly.

The reflection frowned, muttered a few words, and she was driven back to darkness.

* * *

"First question: what the heck did you do that for, mother?"

The two of them stood over the Servant, which now lay senseless on the ground with a number of black, thorny vines wrapped all over its body.

"You never know what this one might be planning. For all you know she'd be planning to get rid of us! We can't have her awake for more than two seconds—that is, without proper preparation."

"I've got another question."

"No more questions dear, please."

"Fine, an inquiring observation then."

"I'm not liking your tone, mister."

"I. Wonder why," Shiro continued stubbornly, emphasizing every syllable. "She. Looks a whole lot... like you?"

"Well—"

"And! I'm also wondering why—" he said, pointing to his belly. "You. Blasted a hole. In me?"

"The answers to both questions can be answered quite easily. It's all because of _you_."

"What? Me?" Shiro asked.

"Yes. You and your impulsive, teenage hormone-driven tendencies leading to delusional decisions that frankly make no sense to anyone else but yourself. You, Mr. I—can—summon—a—familiar—all—by—myself! Now you've entered this 'War' with a live grenade in your palms! And we weren't even supposed to enter it, just mooch off the energies to snag a suitable familiar for ourselves!"

"But I thought—"

"No, you never think, as always, dear. Always charging forward." Medea sighed. "Why couldn't you have waited for Mommy like you always do?"

"Because I wanted to make you proud, duh!" said Shiro, rolling his eyes.

"If that's an attempt at pathetic flattery—"

"Oh jeez, mother! I don't believe this. All I wanted was to finally become a magus worthy of you, and here you are belittling me any way you can. So you know what? You can forget it. Forget all of it! I'm done with this." Shiro stormed off without a backward glance.

"Shiro, wait!" Shiro went on, slamming several doors behind him until she could feel him leave the limit of her territories entirely.

"There he goes, hole still in his belly..." There was going to be a lot of mind-scrubbing for her tonight. "And also five months' worth of materials." She narrowed her eyes at the fallen caricature of herself. "Five months of coin and ten years of waiting—wasted!" She withdrew a phial from her pocket, knelt down to turn the body over, and force-fed the familiar its contents.

Then she began weaving several, complex rituals in rapid succession, each focused on various parts of the familiar's body. Nothing in it would be out of her control. There was no telling what it would do all by itself.

To conclude, she grudgingly placed the strongest compulsion spell she had on hand—which had been bought as a souvenir of sorts in their sojourn through Anatolia. Dear Shiro had bought her that using all he'd saved up for a year and now she was using it to completely bind the Servant to her will.

She laid the Servant on the couch, removed the mind-gutting spell, then busied herself with the minibar. She desperately needed a drink.

True to its unnatural nature, the Servant came to before a minute had passed. She instantly sat up on the couch, looking around warily.

"You." She stood from the couch. She stooped, as if she were laboring under some weight.

"What was that dear?"

"How is this possible? You're..." The Servant paused. She put a hand to her chest. "You bitch. I recognize these spells."

"Please sit, Servant. Where are your manners?"

"I'll sit when I've heard the explanation," Caster said icily. Holding a glass aloft, Medea turned back and placed the drink on the counter.

"Well, you should know the basics by now, being a Servant and all. You've been summoned to participate in the Holy Grail War—"

"I wasn't talking about that," snapped Caster. "Don't take me for a fool. I will not suffer anyone to belittle me—even if it is from some lookalike." An aura of danger suffused the familiar.

Medea took a hefty sip, grimacing at the way the drink burned through her throat. "What did you mean, dear?"

"Explain how _you _can exist," demanded Caster. "Now!"

"I assume it's some Sorcery involving the deal _I _made a long time ago... such an eternity now, it seems. I don't even remember half of it myself, unlike you perhaps. For me, that lifetime seems as distant as the Argo in the sky." She took another sip. "But truth be told, I didn't summon you intentionally. You can thank my _son _for this particular mishap."

"Your _son_?" said Caster incredulously. "Why would—"

"It'd take too long to explain to _you_ my dear. I imagine you're feeling quite a bit affronted by the fact that I let yet another failure of a man claim me."

"Now I know you can't be _me._ I made a promise to myself after my last—"

"I know, dear. Medus was to be the last time I was ever fooled. But there were many lifetimes since then. And since then, my perspectives have changed one way and another."

"How can that—"

"Listen," said Medea, finally putting her empty glass down with a resounding bang. The glass didn't shatter, but several of the room's wards did as her anger-fuelled outburst of power ripped through them. "I've just had a very stressful day, and I won't spend the rest of it being addressed to in such a way by some flimsy shade of my past glory. I am Master of this house, and while you are here, you will show _respect_. Do I make myself clear?"

Caster couldn't speak, not that she let her. She did glare angrily, with a face that was literally her own. She sighed.

"Ah, but your face _does _bring me back." She touched her own, where she'd let a few wrinkles show. The familiar was an echo, but it was a very specific echo—of a past where she'd been beautiful and terrible. Leagues of time separated that instant of Medea from herself, and she had to admit to feeling a little nostalgic.

"You may speak." The familiar sucked in some air as the compulsion left her. She doubled over, breathing heavily.

"How was I summoned?" Caster asked slowly. "And _why _would you ever participate in this War?"

"There is but one answer to both your questions, and its name is my dear boy Shiro."

* * *

"I say!"

"What the fuck?"

"Police! Help!"

Shiro lurched from one misunderstanding to another.

Stupid mother drilling a stupid hole into his body! It was bad enough receiving death threats from the men whose wives he supposedly seduced through the curse, and now his unnatural appearance was breeding fear and madness in the city!

"_I don't want this curse! Why won't you take it off?"_

_"Well, I'm just planning for the future, dear. I do want to see grand-children, you know. So please choose an excellent woman to breed with. I want the best grandchildren that you can provide."_

_"I'm getting mobbed by women of all ages! Everywhere I go it's 'Shiro Shiro Shiro'! The old lady at the candy shop literally hobbled out puckering her lips at me!"_

_"Oh, don't go for those, dear. They're not ovulating anymore."_

_"Yeah, I—wait, that wasn't my point!"_

_"And my point is it's a way of increasing the control group, and thus, the chances for a good result. It's already been proven that virgins sometimes aren't the best with certain tasks—so desperate housewives and lonely office ladies would also work just as well as horny teenagers. Just don't go for lost causes. And pre-pubescents, but that's a given. If you do I'll cut off your balls with a sickle and make familiars out of your fluids. I didn't give birth to a pervert. So do go on and spread your seeds Shiro... and good luck."_

"Stop! In the name of the Emperor!"

_Oh shit! I forgot my passport! _Shiro ran as fast as his scrawny legs could take him, down alleyways and over fences, stepping on yowling cats and sidestepping piles of refuse. He knew the city like the back of his hand. Not because he'd been forced to study it while practicing scrying spells, but also because it was necessary to seriously play hide-and-seek when sex-starved females rush in a frenzy towards you.

Halfway through, he was intercepted by hordes of students, fresh out of school and each fulfilling the effects of mother's curse. Shiro made it all the way around the city before he could shake his pursuers off. By the time he scaled the stairs to Issei's house, he was tired but blissfully alone. Which allowed him to some time to think.

Watching the city below him, Shiro contemplated life, himself, and his mother. It wasn't until the sun bled orange over the horizon that he shook himself from reverie and resolved to head home.

He truly loved his mother. He appreciated the lengths she'd gone in raising him, in spite of the great taboo that forbade her kind from violating the secrecy that was cast on them. Shiro didn't know the exact details, but he'd seen and understood the look on his mother's face when she thought he couldn't see: unabashed, tearful joy. By all rights, he shouldn't have existed at all, and it was her determination and love that saw him alive to this day.

So thinking, Shiro went home, fully intending to take responsibility for his actions.

He stepped through the door, across the foyer, and into the living room. And then he froze.

"What in—?"

Totally oblivious to his presence, the two robed women on the ground, surrounded by a wall of burning candles and sculpted figurines, had their faces plastered to the other's, mouths and tongues tangling in the same way as those foreigner girls in Shinji's video had done.

"Oh—what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

The two broke the kiss. Two flushed, identical faces looked toward him.

"Shiro! Thank heaven you're here!" said the one on the bottom. "She had something planned, as I said! Subdue her!" she pointed at the one on top.

The other shook her head, frowning. "Don't believe the Servant's lies dear. Quick, while I've got her pinned—subdue her! She's almost about to break loose!"

"Are you kidding me? _That's _the first thing you two claim after I just caught you re-enacting scenes from Shinji's video! The one you always forbade me from watching, Mother, but which actually gave me some reference for what the two of you were doing so I won't have you scolding me for just now telling you! And even then, I still ask: what the hell were you two doing?"

"Enough about that, you ass!" said the two of them simultaneously. The two looked at each other.

"Enough of _you_," said Bottom. "I won't have you making a fool of my son!"

Top laughed. "And look at _you_. You clearly don't know my son enough. He knows his own mother."

Shiro groaned, pushing the incoming headache down from the surface.

"Shiro dear! Now would be a good time to strike."

"Yes! Strike this wannabe imposter!"

"Shiro!"

"Shiro!"

"Damn it! Stop!" he shouted. In the ringing silence, Shiro went over to the table and took a seat. "Let me tell you, mother. I was just about to apologize to you for being an impulsive kid who never listened to his parent. I know I've still got a ton of things to learn from you, and I'm far from having the knowledge to become my own magus. So yeah, I really appreciate that."

The two "mothers" looked uncomfortable. "... Where are you going with this?"

"I'm getting to it! So I went home, fully intending to take responsibility for my actions. Y'know, be the better man. But imagine my surprise when I returned, not only finding my own mother making out with a mirror image of herself, but that both of you are still forgetting that I'm a magus of my own right!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You!" He pointed to Bottom. The sigil on his forearm glowed. "I can tell from a mile away that you're my Servant! So I Command you sit down, shut up and stay still; hell, don't even _breathe, _until I tell you otherwise!" The symbol glowed. As Bottom began to turn red and hack and cough, Shiro turned wrathfully to Top.

"And you! Why can't you even trust your son in things like these? I'm your _son _mother! I know who my mother is! I can pick you out from a godamned crowd!"

Silence. Top, or Medea, as Shiro had correctly identified, stood from the Servant choking on the Command Shiro'd given and sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. You _are _my son, Shiro. I probably don't emphasize it as much as I want to, but you are my son, and I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you. I mean, I—"

_Bang. _Shiro looked down, surprised, at the second hole on his belly. "But that does not excuse this new revelation I've discovered," Medea continued in an icier tone. "What's this I hear about you discovering porn?"

"What the hell, mother?" Shiro exclaimed. "I hadn't even healed the first hole!"

Medea dusted herself off, then used a conjured mirror to glance at herself. "You can clean yourself up later. Now, explain."

"What? Are you mad that I got caught up in one of Shinji's schemes?"

"The Mato boy? Ah, that would've been a better solution. Then I needn't have to curse you." Looking slightly less incensed, Medea turned to survey the room.

"Wait, you're not mad I watched por—er, like, just, like a tiny bit of porn?"

"Of course not! Shiro, I encourage the flow of baby-making hormones in your virginal body. Why do you think I had to resort to the curse? You weren't showing signs that you had crushes on girls for a long time."

"No, no! I had..." Shiro looked uncomfortable. "_Some _things in middle school. Like crushes and all."

Medea raised a brow. "Things so hidden that _I_ missed? No, no, my dear, you had _nothing, _so I had to give you a push so we could both get what we want. Do you know I even feared you'd turned into a man-lover? Your extended stays with your friend Isay and that Mato had me nervous."

"First, it's 'Issei', and second, you're doing a grand job of diverting the conversation."

"I beg your pardon?"

Shiro pointed down at the purple-faced Servant. "This. Why the heck were you making out with the Servant? And why are you wearing the same thing as her?"

"Oh, that reminds me." Medea once again looked at the mirror and put a hand over her face. When she put it away, her face had gone from a near-perfect image of the Servant's, to something more weathered by age. "And... I thought you were already familiar with certain _energy-sharing_ rituals."

Shiro took a moment to let that sink in. Then understanding dawned. "Oh, god."

Medea began to cast some restraining spells on the Servant. "What, did you think I had to rely on you giving me blood? You know I hate bleeding, or needles. I needed direct access through which I could siphon her energy. But I sort of... underestimated the amount of effort she put in to resist. I almost became her familiar until you came back."

Shiro chuckled. "I never thought I'd see the day you underestimated something. Guess all it takes is to look at yourself, huh?"

"Oh shut up."

"Don't 'shut up' me. I just saved you, mother. So you should be thanking me, instead of raising hell about the curse and girls and grandkids."

"Oh, don't worry about the curse. I have a better idea now that you told me... So, isn't it about time you release the poor dear? You lose this conduit and you'll be spending a year cleaning the house as a baboon."

"Oh! Sorry," Shiro Commanded the Servant breathe, and she sat up, gasping and wheezing.

"Now go get yourself cleaned up," Medea said, looking at the holes on his belly. "And don't put on too much of the oil; so help me if we run out before we can go back to Greece I'll feed you to the entity we chained."

Sighing, Shiro turned to ascend the stairs. "Not my fault you keep shooting me up with holes."

"...He's a charming boy," Caster said hoarsely. Medea looked down at the living echo of herself, who had a strange light in her eyes as they followed Shiro's form. "Handsome, smart-looking, not too fat or thin. Who was his father?"

"Oh, some Japanese guy claiming to be the 'Magus Killer'. I thought it'd be ironic."

"Oh, Japanese, huh." Both of them looked faintly disappointed.

"...Well, you do the best you can with what you have. At least it wasn't someone from India."

Caster made a face. "Ooooh. Yeah. Good call."

"Thank you. And admirable work fighting the compulsions, by the way. I'd almost forgotten I could do that."

"Yeah, well keep deluding yourself that you're all powerful. If it weren't for my son, there'd be fifty different ways I could make you pay for this humiliation."

"_My _son. You're just the Servant. And _don't _think that just because you're linked to the Great Throne you're automatically more powerful. I've got millenia to learn a bit more than the hedge magic you're probably still practicing."

"Harlot."

"Whore."

The two of them sighed, in almost identical manner. "I need a drink," said Caster.

"So do I. Why don't we discuss Shiro's future plans as a fighter in this War he's dragged himself into over a bottle of pure Aegean."

"I didn't know they still made those!"

"Well actually, it comes from the man himself."

"He's still alive?"

"Everyone's still around m'dear. We're just all scattered around. There are even an unfortunate few who've completely forgotten. The king, for instance, lives in Kingston now. Everyday he makes these things. At night, he moonlights as a bartender and peddles this stuff. I tell you, this stuff can get _any _hero wasted in two seconds flat. That's why it's been deliberately diluted—after all I wouldn't want to set the whole city on fire..."

* * *

"Archer, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Did I summon the wrong Servant? Are you, in reality, not an Archer, but something else? Say, a Caster?"

"Why would you say that?" Archer said, looking up from his work. Rin stood leaning on the doorframe.

"Well you haven't been doing a lot of 'archery' the past few days. All you've been doing is go around 'scouting', and bringing back lots and lots of wood to clutter around in my father's old atelier."

"What, this?" Archer indicated the piece of wood he'd been whittling with a knife. "This is for my ammunition, Master. Where do you think Archers get them? From out their asses?"

Rin frowned. "Er, I don't know—"

"—Well, honestly I also don't know where other Archers get their ammo from. But they do need arrows to shoot, and it just so happens that this particular Archer you summoned relies on these." Archer indicated the growing pile of arrows near him. Each of them had just been sticks and branches carved and polished and fletched into actual arrows, and were now wrapped in glowing blue runes.

"And what are these?" Rin asked, indicating the runes.

"Ah, just a way to identify them as enchanted bark. If they're not, they go into the timber file." Archer nodded to the discarded wood further back.

"'Enchanted'? Enchanted. You... enchanted them?"

"Yep. They need to be, so they can do their jobs. Wood touched by the aether, so they dematerialize with me when I wish it."

Rin rolled her eyes. "Did you learn 'enchanting' as part of your life as an archer?"

Archer leaned back to raise a brow at her. "... What's with all the questions?"

"I'm just trying to make sense of it all," Rin said. "You've been doing a lot of things so un-Archer-like that I'm beginning to think I summoned a Caster. Everything you've done thus far points to that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your spectacles."

"Glasses." Archer pushed his pair up the bridge of his nose. "I unfortunately don't have as good an eyesight as I used to."

"Your magician's robe. Speaking of which, _where _is your coat?"

"A. This is your father's bathrobe, B. It's in the wash."

"We had a wash...? Never mind. Next. Your distinct affinity for brewing."

"Soldiers sometimes need to be able to live off the land—and also sometimes we want our meals hot."

"Using fire that violates thermodynamics?" She gestured to the "forge"-like thing that she was sure was powered by magical fire.

"Using magical means, yes."

Rin blinked. "Well, there's the fact that you were quick to identify the magical circus of fields arrayed all around the city."

"Well they're not too hard to miss; they're everywhere. All the Masters are playing hard ball this time."

"This time...?"

"No, forget that."

Rin raised a brow. "Well, what about the fact that you summoned a bow right out of nowhere? 'Pulling out your ass'?"

On cue, Archer summoned his, a long, white beauty with which he tested nocking his latest arrow. "Built it myself when I was living. It took a whole lot of globe-trotting and magus-bribing. And killing, but that's a given."

"That's a Sorcery."

"It's called being a Servant, Master. Do you know how many times I'd wanted the ability to summon my favored weapon anytime I wanted? Would've accomplished a hell of a lot more than having to lug around gun—er, I mean arrows."

Rin sighed. In truth there was a lot more she wanted to bring up, but at least she wasn't in any danger of losing the War from her Servant's mystery. He claimed not to remember who he was, but displayed such skills that she never once believed were merely 'innate'. He brought back pieces of wood from his scouting, and then proceeded to enchant them with magic she was still scrambling to analyze. And then there were the lessons he gave while she researched said topic, pointing out several simple spells that could be warped into powerful curses with a tweak of the materials.

"Now come, Master. Let me show you what my Archery's all about." He began rolling several arrows into one thick bundle, then tying it around his back. He rose, put away his glasses and disrobed.

Rin glared at him. "It's daytime. We shouldn't be heading out yet."

"The fact that the sun's still up is exactly why we should go," said Archer. "That means they won't retaliate."

"Well, where exactly are we going?" asked Rin as they walked far from her mansion. Daytime meant schooltime for a student, but Rin's truancy had never been an issue with the school, as far as she was concerned. Her family owned half of the land it was on, in any case.

"To each of the Master's hideouts."

She screeched to a halt. "You're joking."

"No I'm not. And don't worry about it, it's not what you think. Let's go."

Minutes later, after remembering to retrieve Archer's just-dried coat, the Master-Servant pair were strolling through a forest right outside the outskirts. An idea lit up in Rin's mind. "If I'm not mistaken..."

"Yes, there's a Master right through there. They've got a heck of a boundary up, so this is where we want to stop." Archer leaned down and began bustling with the tools he'd brought.

"If you try anything stupid..." Rin said, holding out her hand, where the Command rune was.

"Yes yes," said Archer, taking one of the arrows and breaking it. A second later, the two halves each became one arrow.

"Archer...?" Rin said, glaring at the sight.

"Relax, it's really just a normal arrow. Just... y'know... enchanted."

"Does enchanting arrows fall under your legend?"

"Well I—" Archer stopped, a thought occuring to him. "Actually, yes—yes! Of course! This is all just my legend. Multiplying arrows, yesiree. 'He shot, and it seemed that the arrow split in two to strike the murderous—"

"Fine! I won't ask anymore! You're an Archer! Be my Archer! Just don't lose because you're lying to me about your strengths!"

Archer smiled. He nocked one of the arrows. "Oh, don't worry, Master. With me here, we can never lose—well, unless _she _gets involved."

"You keep mentioning a 'she', is 'she' your mother or something?" Archer didn't respond. Rin caught him actually shivering.

Archer fired two arrows in quick succession. Then he stood up, motioning for her to follow him back to the city.

"So that's it?" Archer shrugged. "Tell me your strategem or I'll roast you in a pot. I'm your Master, and I have to know."

Archer acknowledged her declaration with a bow. "Of course, Master. This one understands. Well, let me explain. You know I mentioned that I had knowledge of our enemies, correct?"

"And you haven't been forthcoming with the details," Rin said irritably.

"Right. It was for a reason. I had to confirm it. That's why I kept leaving the house. Now that I've confirmed it, as well as the Servants involved, we moved on to phase two. _This _is phase two."

"Sounds like a perfectly reasonable explanation, I grant that. Now are you sure you aren't just covering your ass justifying your going around gathering wood and watching the sunset? Because I saw everywhere you went, Archer. And it defnitely wasn't 'scouting', as you claim."

"Oh crap, I forgot you could do that..." Archer said, eyes wide. At Rin's acidic glare, he shook himself and continued, "Right... I—well, let me just explain phase two."

"Archer!"

"Please trust me, Master. You'll love phase two."

"Go on," said Rin through gritted teeth.

Archer chuckled, as if enjoying his own joke. "Well, you know how people get pissed off for no reason whatsoever, and in doing so become blinded by rage thus influencing their decisions and performance on the battlefield? Well, I'm going to accomplish that, covering all the other Masters, and then we can just watch as everyone else goes apeshit over these," Archer indicated the arrow quiver, "And then we just kill the last one standing."

"...What?"

"Deliberate misdirection, Master. Since I have an idea who the other Servants are, I also have an idea of who they're _not_. And boy, is there a long list of Servants that they're not whom I can pin the blame on, to make them think they're the Enemy."

_The homonculus answered the doorbell promptly. A useless courtesy, as no one got to the front door of the Einzbern estate without its master knowing who they were. But that was its function, nevertheless, and it answered the bell._

_The homonculus opened the great doors, and spied the arrow stuck into the ringing bell. Puzzled, it stared at the sight for a few more seconds before another arrow came whistling in, this time carrying a note wrapped around the shaft._

_Glancing around, the homonculus hurriedly took the two arrows and slipped inside, carrying them to its mistress._

_Minutes later, a frenzied roar shattered all the windows of the estate. _

_"Berserker!" shouted a red-faced Illyasviel. The giant roused from sleep. "Prepare yourself! We hunt!"_

_The giant roared, defenestrating all the loose glass that didn't make it inside the house. Another homonculus stared at the mess, then at its kin, who'd brought the infuriating missive that had triggered their volatile mistress. _

_Unable to feel such emotions as bashfulness or guilt, the homonculus blinked back, then bowed and went on its way, leaving its sister to the shards of glass that lined the corridor from end to end, on every wing and floor._

In general, Servant Archer had a grand time pissing off, if not enraging the other Servants. Satisfied, and after urging his Master to return to her fortress to fortify against the storm, Archer spent the rest of the day fletching and engaging his Master in magical discourse using his assuredly non-magical experience.

Archer saw his Master to bed with the self-assurance that tomorrow's reaping would be fruitful. The looming threat of the only Servant he'd neglected to contact worried him, so he thought to address it first thing in the morning.

The next day, without again saying anything, Servant Archer left his Master's house. It was the start of a new day in the War.

* * *

Emya Shiro had not had a good day. He'd been almost late, he'd completely forgotten to bring several samples of his baked creations to give to Sakura, he'd received low marks on that last test (a trite insignificant, of course, he was destined for better things), and he'd confused two rune commands such that the machine he was supposed to have repaired for Issei instead caused the fire alarms to trigger all around the school.

Being a student of the occult, Shiro read the signs and interpreted them to be omens of worse things to come. He was proven right when, upon answering a call for help from one of the clubs, he instead found himself hoisted upside down, blasted with several concussive magic, and left to hang by his feet from very strong ropes on the ceiling.

Shiro uttered an invective he'd heard his Mother say only once. Mother would definitely flay him if she'd heard.

He felt several hands touch his arms; felt fingers on his wrist. He heard an intake of breath.

And then—

"Where. Is. My Servant," demanded the voice of Tosaka Rin.

"What the bloody hell is this, Tosaka?" Unlike Issei, he'd never been one to yell at Tosaka Rin, resident school cool beauty. First, she was a rare specimen of woman who'd somehow resisted his mother's charm spell, which meant he could tolerate her. Second, she was a student to be respected, not just in looks and academic achievements, but also in general attitude and manner.

All that got tossed out the window on this moment.

"Where is my Servant, Shirou. I know you have him! Take me to him, or I swear to god I'll obliterate you this instant."

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't play the dumb card with me, buffoon! I'm dead serious. Dead, like you're going to be in the next five seconds, if you're not going to agree. One."

"Look. First of all, I have no idea what you're talking about, Tosaka. And second: holy shit, you were a magus all along?"

"Right back at _you_! I can't believe Ryuudo's little protege is actually a hidden magus! And here you are as my enemy in the Grail War!"

"Oh." He didn't know if it was the blood rushing to his brain, but several things began to click into place. "So you're a Master too? Well Mother always suspected that the Tosakas were still practicing magi, but to see it myself..."

"Ugh. Don't get sidetracked. If you're a magus, then you're familiar with compulsions, aye?"

"Um... sort of, but y'see I'm kind of immune to those sorts of things."

"Hah! A likely bluff." Tosaka began chanting something he recognized as High Ancient Something-Something Language. Damn, he should've paid more attention to those lessons...! Mother had said he was relatively immune, but for a few exceptions. Think Shiro! What were the exceptions?

While he thought furiously, he felt something grab ahold of his neck, then felt a chill run up his spine, culminating in a low sort of feeling at the back of his brain. And then the sensation disappeared.

"What...?" asked Rin. She looked dumbfounded.

"...So I guess I can say without reservation, but without malice or any nasty feeling whatsoever, 'I told you so'. Now, can you get me down so we can have a normal conversation? I really want to get to the bottom of this... whatever this is. And it's hard to converse civilly with all this blood in my head. Seriously. Not a fun position."

"No. If you're a magus, and a Master in this War, then you remain where you are." Tosaka frowned. "But why didn't it work on you?" she said under her breath.

"Look, you asked me if I was familiar with compulsion magic? Well, I am. I'll make a Vow. If, in the next ten, no twenty seconds, you free me from this headache-inducing position, I promise, by the Omega Theorem and the First Council, that I will not attack or cause harm or discomfort to you in any way."

"Ugh. Fine." She snapped her fingers, and he went down.

He got to his feet and dusted himself off. "Well, I guess this is fairly late and all, but, nice to meet you, Tosaka Rin. I am Emya Shiro," he said, bowing.

"Likewise," Tosaka replied, bowing in turn.

"So," Shiro said, stretching his arms above his head. "A magus huh?"

"I'm equally surprised."

"Well, Mother told me she'd researched this town pretty well. She knew your family used to be a premier magus family. I think she banged an ancestor of your something."

"... What?"

"Believe me, the mental image kind of grosses me out too. So I prefer not to talk about it right now. Well anyway, she assumed there'd be some lingering magic in your blood, but she never figured out that you were still practicing. But wait till she hears about this."

"Who's this Mother you keep referring to?"

Shiro stared at her for a few seconds before shaking his head. "...I'd prefer not to talk about it right now."

"Then let's talk about my Servant." Tosaka glared fully at him, and Shiro could tell she was ready to fire off a spell if he made any sudden movements. Not like he was going to.

"Well what about him?"

"Don't play dumb. You abducted him."

"Uhh no. To be honest, Tosaka, I'm really not as invested in this Grail War thing as you, presumably, are."

"Liar. I last tracked him to _your _house, Emiya."

"You went to my...?"

"That was his last known location. That idiot was wandering around the city last night, and it was all I could do to avoid summoning him with my last sigil. So I literally had to follow his footsteps all day, being absent from school again, until I came to your house, where the trail ends."

"Um... wow. I'm not sure what I can say. I didn't see any new guests of ours when I went out this morning. So..."

"So if you _are _claiming to be innocent," Tosaka said, leaning close with venom in eye and voice. "Then you wouldn't mind to me taking you hostage while I escort you to your house and check?" She pointed at his crotch. "And the first sign of any funny business and I. Gandr. Your balls. Off."

"Whoa. Even as a joke—"

"I've had enough of the lighthearted crap!" she snapped, making him recoil. In that moment, Tosaka reminded him of a younger, more fiery version of Mother. That did not please him by any means. "You and that moronic Servant of mine can stuff your clueless, self-assured crap down your throats! Now take me to your house _right now_, Emiya, or it's curtains for your sacks."

"Sheesh. Now I can tell Issei he was right." They left the school with all haste, Rin walking right next to him with a finger seemingly poised to shoot at his jewels. The duo were met with some strange stares from the other lingering students.

They were completely silent on the walk. Shirou lulled the silence with his thoughts. Rin, a Magus? A Master? Her Servant at his house? Maybe it's a trap, whispered a small voice that sounded so much like his mother's. Lead her through the wards, whereupon her Servant will miraculously appear and ambush them.

_Hah, let them try it on Mother,_ he thought. The whole house was rigged with decades of traps and pitfalls and other legerdemained spells that nothing short of a void shield nullifying all magic could deflect.

"This is kind of like the first time I—"

"Don't talk to me."

"Hey, c'mon we have to have some conversation. And I promise that it's not a ruse to distract you while I wind up a stunning rune. Honest. Promise."

"Well," Tosaka said, visibly relaxing, though she never let her finger off. "I have always had my suspicions of you, if you must know. Being the unofficial handyman lapdog of the student council, I always found it odd that you managed to complete any request made of you. One time, I had a look at one of your completed requests. It was a lamp of sorts. It belonged to my friend. It had traces of magic on it. I'd almost thought of using my authority as the caretaker of these lands to investigate you (my family has many old connections), but you didn't seem like much of a threat at the time."

"Speaking of that, we did attempt to contact you. But as you know, there are rules. And we didn't really know if you _were _a magus. We didn't want to break any rules revealing magic to you."

"Well, at least now it's cleared up," Rin said with brows raised.

"I guess so."

They had reached his house. From outside, Shiro couldn't see anything amiss. No wards broken, nothing smelled or looked out of place. No errant sounds, no chill on his skin.

Tosaka still glared suspiciously. Shiro shrugged, and invited her in.

Inside, the place looked just as before. Everything seemed calm, silent.

"Well, we're here," Shiro said with a shrug. Despite outwardly seeming calm, he felt a far different tension now that he'd let Tosaka inside his house. He expected a lot of things to happen, which included the girl suddenly attacking him.

"Huh. I feel... Archer's over there!" Tosaka dashed through the corridor towards their small garden. Shiro followed close, making sure to watch her for any signs of attack.

They screeched to a stop when they arrived at the scene. And what a scene it was.

It was almost the same scene as before. A ring of candles, a series of traced signs on the ground. Smoking incense, ropes, withered leaves, jars of reagents. Bound at the center, a muscular, nearly naked man. Ropes wound its way around every limb. A ball gag was inexplicably stuffed into its mouth. Looming over him, holding a bull whip and wearing what could only be some sort of tight, leathery dominatrix costume she'd dug up from god knows where, was his mother, who looked as shocked to see them as he.

"God. Damn it!" he said, breaking the stunned silence.

"Archer!" cried Tosaka.

"Mother?" he demanded.

"Yes, dear?"

"Mmmmf!"

"What the hell!?"

"Is that a girl, Shiro?"

"The hell are you doing, woman?" Tosaka said.

"Please. Explain."

"Where the heck's your coat?"

"MMMMMPHH!"

"Shiro! Isn't that the Tosaka woman?"

"—I so did not need to commit this hideous scene to memory—"

"—get the hell off my Servant, woman!"

"—and with a frigging ball gag?"

"—have hope for a grandson yet—"

"Hang on, I'm gonna save you Archer! Just sit tight."

"Mmmpphh..."

"—I think I'm gonna throw up—"

"—Perfectly good explanation—"

"Archer...!"

"Mmmpph...!"

"_Everybody _stop talking all at once!" A voice roared, overpowering the confused cacophony. Silence reigned once more. Shiro's Servant appeared next to Tosaka, and quickly delivered a quick injection to her neck.

"Ughhh... No..." The drug was fast acting. Rin's eyes rolled up their sockets.

Caster sighed, letting Shiro catch and cradle the girl's unconscious body before it fell. "Hades' balls you people. You could turn a wake into a raucus."

"Mmmph..." said the other Servant in protest.

Spoilers were revealed, deals were made, plans were set, the finer details hammered out. By the time they sat down for dinner, Shiro felt like he had successfully master-minded a mediation between two opposing parties.

All throughout, he noticed his Servant had kept on smiling.

Tosaka was given the lowdown about the Grail War, as his Mother understood it. The stark, harsh truth, and the assurance that nothing good would ever come out of pursuing it. Of course, the heiress to the Tosaka lands had a responsibility to end the War, ("-that Japanese pride," his Mother said) and so his Mother readily agreed to an alliance that would bring mutual benefit. Together, they would attempt to end the War as swiftly as possible.

"No way!" Tosaka said, slamming a hand on the table. Archer remained silent.

"Yes way," his Mother said, pointing a stern finger at her. "Remember that we are dictating terms here, to the losing party. Be glad we're even at this table discussing it."

Secondly, Tosaka would be able to keep her Servant, indefinitely, using a few rituals that his Mother would teach her, thus binding the Servant much like a familiar. He would be very much useful in research—both for Tosaka and Mother. Mother would of course gain access to the Servant 50% of the time.

This arrangement, Shiro thought, would mean that 50% of the time in the future Tosaka would have to be with them. It didn't sound as bad as it seemed.

Tosaka gritted her teeth, glared at him and uttered all sorts of curses, but accepted in the end.

But—"These rituals," he ventured, widening his eyes significantly at Mother. "Wouldn't happen to need yet another S&amp;M scene from you and Mr. Archer right? Mother? You _shouldn't _be trying again for another 'direct' conduit, right? Right?"

"Um..."

"Because if it does, then count _me _out. I'm not agreeing."

"Hah! Finally, someone who sees sense," Tosaka said.

"I'm not really concerned about your Servant, Tosaka," Shiro said blithely.

His Mother sighed. "Fine, fine. I promise _not _to turn your Servant into a direct conduit to myself." She turned to him. "Happy."

"Yes."

They went down for dinner, Tosaka seemed mildly impressed by his work, and after a dessert of custard, they went back to details. Battle plans involving the joint efforts of Caster and Archer, which also involved the bombshell of Archer seemingly knowing the identity of every other Servant.

"Well this is awkward," Mother said to him, when Tosaka'd excused herself for an escorted break.

"Yeah," he whispered back. Over the table, Archer peered at them suspiciously. "I mean, it'll be a story I could tell Mr. Herakles about, later. If we ever should meet."

"And I need to call Kathy back." Her mother seemed to think about it for a second before she slapped a hand to her head. "Never mind. Ugh. After this is over, remind me to get another one of those portable computers."

"You mean laptops?"

"Or legtops or whatever."

"What happened to the last one?"

"It... It's gone."

"What?"

"It's gone, I tell you."

"Oh. Oh I see. You broke it."

"Well..."

"Or shattered it or whatever. It must've displeased you again, like the last one."

"It was very uncooperative."

"Well, fine, mother, but do remember that it's a machine and not something you can subvert to your will."

"Damn these twenty-first century magics!"

"It's technology mother. Hey, maybe that can be my culmination project. Learning how to subvert modern technology with ancient..."

Archer snorted. "Hey," Shiro said, addressing the Servant. "Are you eavesdropping, Archer?"

"No."

"Yeah, whatever mister masochist."

"I am not a masochist."

"Oh, I think he is," Mother interjected. "He didn't really protest when I put the ball gag in his mouth."

"Hah!"

"What are _you _looking smug about?" Archer asked.

"Wait, oh crap, yeah! Mother! Stop putting mental images in my head. You know I've been scarred for life." Archer shook his head, somehow.

Caster looked on, smiling.

A definite action plan was laid out for the immediate morning. Depending on what would happen, tomorrow would definitely be an interesting day.

They were silent on the way back. At first she wanted to berate and interrogate the Servant to find out exactly how it had been captured, but here Rin felt like there was something off about Archer. Gone was the fierce, hawk-like look. Gone was the self-assured, cocksure attitude. Gone was...

"Archer, I think you forgot your coat."

"Oh, god. Damn it." He sighed, turning his head to look back. "Well, maybe tomorrow."

"Are you alright?"

Archer looked at her. "Why do you ask?"

"You look like you're a hundred miles away."

Archer breathed out a sigh again. "I agree that my thoughts are somewhere else."

"Is it about the Grail War?"

"No.. Somehow I've always known," was his reply.

"What? Were you planning at all to tell me?" she asked, indignant.

"Perhaps. But... well, I wasn't thinking about that."

"Is it that we agreed to that woman's terms? Don't worry. I'll spend the rest of my time—my life if I have to—figuring out how to escape the contract."

He chuckled. "No. Though you're getting close."

"Close...? Wait. Oh. I see what's going on here. You fell in love with her."

He jerked to a stop, before making retching sounds. "No! Absolutely not."

"Hmm... Oh! I got it. If not her, then you're thinking about that weird play you were in. Is that it?"

"No!" he almost yelled.

"Because if you're into that... then I'm sure something can be..." she stuttered, looked down, blushing. "Something can be arranged."

"Don't say things like that without having a straight face, Master."

"Fine. Mr. Masochist."

"Not. A. Masochist." Tosaka clucked her tongue and turned away from him.

He shook his head. "Don't mind me, Master. Free your mind from worry, for tomorrow, we might die."

"Hmph. Not with you at my side."

"I thank you for your confidence, Master."

He looked back one more time. A faint memory of seeing his own mother tying up some weird guy when he came home rose in his mind. Although in that instance, Tosaka hadn't been there. That scene seemed like several eternities ago. And yet...

He remembered all the senseless yelling. All the fake anger. All the feigned outrage.

The love.

Melancholy gripped him.

Did he really look that different that _she _didn't recognize him?

"Have I really grown up now, Mother?"

* * *

"You're skilled."

Shiro put down the scrying glass, put away the planetarium analyzers in their shelves, and rolled up the sketches of all the constellations.

"Thank you." He glanced at his Servant, who stood by the door. "It means a lot to hear that from you. Since, well, it's like—"

"—But I'm not her. Not technically, right? So it's not the same." He shrugged.

"Well, _I _can honestly say that you'll grow up to be a good man. A good magus, perhaps. Kind, earnest, hopefully ruthless enough to remain a magus, if that's your plan. Take it from someone who's been there."

"Are you putting _my _son on a pedestal before it's even built?" came his mother's voice. She carried several pieces of laundry with her.

Caster turned to her. "Well, since he's _your_ son and I'm just the Servant, I can afford to be honest."

"And you think _I'm _not?"

Caster tilted her head. "Not usually."

Mother sighed. "Whatever. Are you done?" she asked, looking at him.

"Yes."

"Good. Well, try this on."

"What is—whoa, this is a nice-looking coat! Where'd you get it?"

"Hush." Mother said when Caster opened her mouth to answer. "Put it on, dear."

"It's a little too big. And it smells... Smells weird." He looked up from fitting his arms through the sleeves to see the identical faces of his Mother staring at him oddly. "What?"

Caster sobbed, and turned away. "I can't...! He's so..."

"He's perfect," Mother said, stepping forward to ruffle his head.

"Um... I'm a little bit embarrassed here. Also confused, bordering on angry. This suit's a little too goofy for me. It's definitely not going to be netting me 'an heir', no matter what the curse does."

"Oh, hush."

"Speaking of heirs..." Caster began.

"She is not a good candidate," Mother replied firmly, glancing at the Servant.

"Perhaps. A bit too headstrong. But you must admit he'll have a firm guiding hand all throughout."

"He won't be needing that. He'll have me."

"Oooh. An Oedipal twist! I'm glad to be able to see this part of my story."

"Shut up."

Shiro looked from one face to the other. "What on _earth_ are you two talking about?"

"It's nothing dear," Mother said, her eyes wandering over his body. She straightened the coat. Her gaze was of someone admiring something precious.

"You'll grow up to be a splendid man," Mother crooned, cupping his cheek.

"Umm... thanks, I guess." He grinned crookedly, unsure what else to say, for once.

His mother smiled.

* * *

Author's Note: Roughly seven years ago, I wrote a fanfiction featuring the above concept. It involved writing almost like _Prodigrail _, which is to say, derivative of the visual novel style. The fanfiction never really got off from the first few "chapters".

Coming back to it in a pique of interest, I wrote this fanfiction you've just read, which is based on the older writing. It compresses roughly two thirds of the original draft. In the transition, it somehow changed from having an atmosphere similar to the original visual novel to this semi-humorous piece.

I wrote other fanfiction with the same concept. Only the Medea one got the farthest. A Gilgamesh fiction is smaller by three chapters, I have here a Saber (Arturia) -centric fiction featuring only the prologue. And last but not least, a Medusa piece featuring only five paragraphs.

If ever I get around to expanding the rest into a one shot like these, the Medusa one will probably be first.

Thanks for reading!

Merlin out.


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